


an inconvenient fall of rain

by cenotaphy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Castiel Being Castiel, Castiel Has Self-Esteem Issues, Coda, Dean being a self-sacrificing idiot, Dean is Not Oblivious, First Kiss, Headspace, M/M, Michael Possessing Dean Winchester, One Shot, Post-Season/Series 13, Season Finale, Season/Series 13 Spoilers, So much angst, did i mention the angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 06:31:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15309492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cenotaphy/pseuds/cenotaphy
Summary: One-shot, set after the season 13 finale.Dean says yes to Michael, and Castiel finds himself dangerously close to losing faith.





	an inconvenient fall of rain

"Yes," says Dean. His voice is haunted. Castiel can barely hear him, over the silent pounding in his own ears.

This can't possibly be happening, he thinks, almost numb. Not after so many years, not after so much has been sacrificed to prevent this very thing. He feels the rotting remnants of his useless wings, hanging phantom-like over his back, feels the muted thrum of the weakened grace in his veins. Feels, though he doesn't look, the sticky drip of invisible blood coating his fingers, every life he's taken in service of Dean Winchester, and—

—and for this?

"Yes," says Dean again to Michael, still not looking at Castiel, and what can Castiel say, really? He put everything into that first agonized protest, but Dean's mind is made up, immovable.

Castiel has crouched humble and lowly before the Host of heaven, and he has been drained dry and cast down to Earth by the Metatron, and he has felt Lucifer's crushing grip grind him into slow oblivion, but nothing has ever made him feel as small and helpless as the way his pleas bounced off Dean's determined gaze.

But if Castiel has learned anything in all these years it's the thing that _will_ move Dean Winchester, and Castiel is not that thing.

Dean will become the sword he was built and born to be, and not to save the world or to destroy Lucifer.

" _Yes_ , dammit," says Dean a third time, angrily, and Michael is still wary, disbelieving, because Michael doesn't know this world's Dean—Michael doesn't know what this world's Dean has done and will do to save Sam Winchester.

"Dean," says Castiel. His voice cracks and he can't find the strength to despise himself for that. Dean's shoulders fold forward as he shutters in on himself, but he still doesn't turn around. Doesn't respond. Dean has shut Castiel out, like an inconvenient fall of rain—has shut a door between them, and maybe it was a door that was never really open, anyway. It would make sense. Castiel seems to make a habit of wanting what he can never truly have. And maybe this is what Castiel needed to learn all along, the lesson that will finally put him back together into a shell that holds him.

Michael finally nods, still suspicious but perhaps correctly evaluating that this is his best option. He tips back his head and silver-blue light pours out of his mouth, hurricane-loud.

Castiel averts his eyes, not because he needs to but because he _will_ not, _cannot_ watch this. Michael may destroy Lucifer and after that in all probability the world, and there is very little that Castiel can do to change any of that. To the point, he thinks, that it likely wouldn't even make sense for him to try. And this is what Dean has chosen over everything, over Castiel.

Dean will give himself over and be reduced to nothing. And Castiel, who _is_ nothing, who has never been anything to most and perhaps not even to Dean—Castiel whose innumerable sacrifices and sins are similarly reduced nothing in the face of Dean's final, greatest sacrifice here and now—Castiel will let Dean go, because he must, but he will not watch.

Michael billows and burns, blue-white and glorious, coiling himself in the air above, readying to accept his Sword.

And then Dean whirls, graceful under the maelstrom of that light as it thrums and spins against the Bunker's ceiling. Dean whirls, as fast and determined as if he's killing a monster or fighting for someone's life, and a moment later his hands are on Castiel's face, his mouth on Castiel's mouth, crushed hastily against it as if it's the last second they have together in this life or any other.

Every guilty thought and half-dreamed fantasy Castiel has pushed under the surface for years blooms to life and is immediately subsumed by the present moment, as Castiel opens his mouth in return and receives Dean Winchester on his tongue. Any doubt and hesitation is burned away by the fire of Dean's mouth on his; Castiel is devout in this as in nothing else. If Naomi could only see him now.

Dean kisses like a storm, like something angry and desperate and only half-planned. Dean kisses with his entire heart and body and soul, fire-bright and hungry. Dean kisses the fear right out of Castiel's head and for one long and radiant second it is only the two of them, tangled together in this room, and Castiel thinks surely the world must go on like this forever, surely this cannot end here, now, after this—

And then Dean pulls away, his mouth the first to go, and then the tender apology in his gaze, and last his hands, the thumbs brushing down the narrow bones of Castiel's face.

 _Better cherish that, little brother_ , says Michael from up by the ceiling, his true voice breaking every piece of glass in the Bunker. Michael arrows down in a column of light and Dean Winchester lights up like the weapon he was, it seems, always destined to be.

***

It only takes a few seconds for Michael to claim his true vessel, but Castiel hears the thrum and howl of it long after Dean has vanished. He stares at the empty space where Dean had unfurled archangel's wings, feels the phantom stroke of Dean's hands leaving his face. Raises his own fingers, slowly, to touch his lips, where the taste of Dean's soul still seems to linger—his imagination, surely, this whispery remnant, the way his mouth remembers that torrent of jade and silver, cinnamon and smoke and autumn light.

Did he really just let Dean go?

The kiss coils in him like curse or benediction or both. It burns against his mouth like a brand. If Castiel could have harbored any thoughts of giving up, of letting Dean go unchallenged into his hallowed destiny, of letting Michael use that mouth and those hands to wreak destruction on this world, he cannot do so now. Not with the memory of that kiss twining deeper and deeper into his throat, seeding itself down in his chest like an unwanted vine, making hope clench around Castiel's heart like a vise.

 _Predictable_ , he thinks Naomi would call it. A predictable flaw, a predictable reaction to something angels are supposed to be above, because Castiel is now broken in predictable ways, and the cracks in him can be extrapolated from Dean outwards.

He is lost, he thinks, as he has always been lost, for Dean Winchester. He cannot let Dean go. He cannot let Dean be lost to him.

 _Dean_ , he thinks, suddenly overcome with grief. _Why did you wait until now—you could have—we could have had_ —

He doesn't know if he is praying. Dean is no angel, to hear his words. Or will he be able to hear prayers, now? Castiel thinks of Michael, ascending in a crescendo of grace and power, whipping like the heart of a star over their heads. And Dean, Dean turning to him at the last possible second, planting hope just as the faith which had always held Castiel steadfast to his side might finally be starting to wither—

Dean, who could not possibly have failed to account for the possibility that Michael might seize control and become a danger to the world, to _Sam_ , and that all possible help would be needed in order to stop Michael—

 _You knew_ , Castiel thinks. His hand trembles on his lips. A strange sound tugs free, a laugh, bubbling low in his throat.

"You son of a bitch," he says, to the empty air, to Dean.

He sits down on the steps, to wait. Sam will be returning. They will have to plan their next move, to save Dean.

**Author's Note:**

> I'M BACK WITH MORE ANGST FOR EVERYBODY


End file.
